


A Blank Canvas

by IrLaimsaAraLath



Series: Pride Goeth [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Consent Play, F/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, submissive solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrLaimsaAraLath/pseuds/IrLaimsaAraLath
Summary: Solas tests out his newest paint on his Lavellan.





	A Blank Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Submitted to Submissive Solas 2017.

The glass doors to both balconies stood open, allowing cool air to circulate as it swept in off the mountain.  She was dressed only in one of Solas's old tunics, its long hems threadbare in places, tickling at her thighs with its fraying edges.  She enjoyed the chill from outside; it gave her a reason to stay snuggled beneath the furs on her bed.  Every breeze caused strands of her hair to flutter in front of her eyes and tickle her cheeks.  Shifting her grip to hold her book in one hand, she tucked the troublesome tresses behind her ears, then idly curled her fingers against her lips.  She was lost deep in her reading.  Her head was propped on a pair of pillows, and she was low enough on the bed that her legs protruded from the covers, draping over the foot, toes just barely able to brush Solas's bare shoulders.

 

From the floor, she could hear the soft *shhhhsh shhhhsh shhhhsh* of the stone mortar and pestle Solas used to grind the pigments for his paints.  He sat, bare-chested and focused, with several bowls of ingredients scattered around his crossed legs.  When last she'd asked, he was working on blue.  Neither spoke, but the silence between them was comfortable and relaxed.  Pressing a fingertip against her tongue thoughtfully, she finished the last few words on her current page and flipped to the next.  The big toe on her right foot wiggled back and forth, though she was oblivious to it, and she swapped the book from one hand to the other as she intently traced its lines of text with her eyes.

 

Without warning, something cold and wet plopped on her wriggling big toe and slithered up the top of her foot.  Involuntarily, she yipped and tried to pull back her leg, but Solas's hand captured her ankle.  "Sooooolas," she whined playfully as she tugged at her right leg with little to no effort at all.  "What is that?  It feels vile," she pretended to complain as she laid her book to the side and sat up on one elbow.  He still had her ankle, and she could see the back of his head over the footboard.  The slick slide of cold continued to travel, across the top of her foot, then to her ankle where it made a chilly little circle.  "I am testing out my newest paint," he said as the cool trail of blue traveled up the inside of her calf.  

 

She tugged again on her leg half-heartedly.   “And you think my skin your canvas?  Surely there are better,” she teased as she settled back on both elbows now.   He was just coming to his knees when he spoke, propping her heel on his shoulder as he smiled lazily at her.  “There are more traditional canvases, perhaps,” he offered as he swirled a fingertip in the earthen bowl he held.  “But certainly not  _ better _ ,” and with that, he pressed a paint-laden finger to her skin again, drawing flourishes on the inside of her calf before tracing upward along the line of her shin.  

 

“But, it’s cooold,” she complained, shrugging deeper into the furs until they were snug about her shoulders.   Wordlessly, his lips puckered and blew on the still-drying streaks, his smile becoming more substantial when she laughed out a squeal.   Goosebumps ran along her skin, and she squirmed in response, bending her left leg to plant her foot firmly on his chest.  She quirked a brow, the corners of her mouth turning easily upward.  “That’s enough of that, you.  That was very...not nice,” she finished, pointing her toes to push into his chest.  His head fell to the side as he watched the action pull the line of her left calf taut, sculpting it into a graceful curve.

 

“As you say,” he murmured, setting the small bowl of paint aside as he slid his hand beneath the foot on his chest.  She laughed again, tickled by the brush of his fingers.  “Shall I make reparations?” he asked against her skin, rubbing his cheek to the inside of her ankle.  She resettled her weight from one elbow to the other, gazing at him with an exaggerated appraisal of his offer.  “Only if you think you can do so adequately,” she finally said, her voice far more serious than her words were.  It was obvious to her that the game had changed, but she recognized it as one he very much liked to play.  She was willing to indulge him.  He murmured behind closed lips, and she could feel the vibration travel from his chest and through the sole of her foot into her leg.  “I will make a most earnest attempt, Inquisitor,” he said, mimicking her stern tone, “to win your forgiveness.”  

 

The first kiss he placed to the inside of her calf was light, fleeting, and it painted a shiver of an entirely different nature along her skin.  “I want to tell you,” he began as his long fingers crept up the back of her leg.  She watched him, captivated, and her brows ticked up a fraction as he slid an inch higher and peppered her skin with a series of breathy kisses.  “...That I am aware that it is by your grace alone that I am allowed to stay with your Inquisition.”  When he reached her knee, his hand nestled in the crook, fingers dancing lightly, and it elicited another chord of laughter, though it was more throaty than before.  He knew how ticklish she was, and he was playing on all of her sensitive spots. 

 

She could feel his smile against the slope that led to her knee, and when his lips fell on the bend, the press of his kiss was heavier.  “I would hate to know that I had done anything,” he said as he lingered, massaging with his fingers as he parted his mouth on her skin, “that would lead you to believe I was not grateful for your beneficence.”  The rush of his breath was hot and was followed by the tip of his tongue as it drew small circles.  She inhaled slowly and deeply as her eyes lingered on him intently, and he glanced up from beneath the smugly pleased quirk of his brow.  “Shall I continue?” he inquired, setting his cheek against the inside of her knee.  

 

Steadying her voice, she cast him a dubious glance, ending with a tsking shake of her head.   “Such a hasty redress.  Do you feel you’ve already adequately made amends?”  His expression turned contrite, and he lowered his gaze as if abashed.  She drew her painted leg upward to rest the arch of her foot on the top of his shoulder, giving him a nudge, a gentle suggestion that he meet her eyes.  Obligingly, he tilted his face upward, and she let her question hang pregnant in the air.  “Of course not, Inquisitor,” he murmured, and she slid her leg to drape again over his shoulder.  She nodded, only once, then spoke, “You may continue, then.”

 

“Thank you,” he intoned as he straightened his legs to stand tall on his knees.  Hooking his arms beneath her legs, he flattened his palms against the front of her thighs and pulled her gently forward and upward.  The action tugged his tunic that she wore higher on her body, revealing the curve where her hips met her waist, leaving only the longer, tapered front of the garment to dip from her belly to fall to hide the cleft between her legs.   When settled, her knees bent over his shoulders, heels lightly brushing against his back.  

 

The incline of his head brushed his cheek against one inner thigh then the other, before he turned his face to place kisses on each.  The warmth of his lips sent pleasant tingling upward, and she cuddled down into the cradle of her pillows before lacing her fingers and draping her hands across her belly beneath the blankets and furs.  She observed him in expectant silence.  As if lost in thought, his fingers massaged the fronts of her thighs as he ran the tip of his nose along her skin.  She couldn't deny the shiver that traveled through her body.  

 

As if summoned by her quiver, his eyes slipped upward, and he gazed at her as he nuzzled into her leg.   “I am aware that I am not the….easiest…of your companions,” he offered apologetically.  She hummed her agreement and followed up with, “Yes, you can be extremely vexing at times.  Occasionally, I wonder if you're really worth the trouble.”  She heaved a sigh as if wearied by his administrations and turned her head slightly to glance at him from the corner of her eye.  “I know that you must,” he offered regrettably as he paused, pressing his chin into her leg.   

 

“In my defense, if you will allow,” he murmured, arms curling further about her thighs to allow his fingers to draw along the hem of the tunic between her legs, “I must say that I have a unique skill set in which I am very proficient.” His head dropped, and he brushed his nose in the crook of her leg as if to nudge the thin cloth of the tunic aside.  Beneath her legs, she felt the lift of his shoulders as he breathed deeply of her scent.  It was a moment before he spoke.  “No doubt, you would find these talents useful,” he said with a darkened edge in his voice, the warmth of his breath pressed against the fabric.  A hand snaked from beneath the furs, reaching between her legs to plant an index finger on his forehead.  She was none too gentle as she pushed into his brow, and he lifted his eyes to her.  “It seems to me, penitent, that you are seeking reward before you’ve earned it,” she scolded, withdrawing her hand to lay back again against the mound of pillows.

 

Disapproval colored her tone of voice, and Solas seemed for a moment genuinely crestfallen.  “It was certainly not my intention, Inquisitor,” he confessed, the tempo of his voice betraying a hint of urgency.  “I had only hoped to...demonstrate...my abilities, my value, to your cause,” he followed up, the tips of his fingers drawing idle circles along the skin of her inner thighs as if he couldn’t stand to keep them still.  The upward tilt of her brow was mirrored by one corner of her mouth, and she folded her arms beneath the furs as she sternly regarded him.  “Then ask permission,” she finally said.  This was always the way of it.  The first move of this particular game was always his, but in time, he always fell prey to his own machinations.  

 

The last vestiges of mirth drained away as his eyes darkened, taking on a slightly predatory look.  His voice held none of that expression, however, and softly, he beseeched, “Inquisitor, may I please?”  His words trailed off as he brushed the tip of his nose against the thin fabric shrouding her warmth.  She could never pretend she didn't enjoy this game; her body always betrayed her.  Her breath left her body as a trembling sigh, and she did her best to mask it as tolerant impatience with his lack of specificity.  

 

“May you please what?”  Over his shoulders, her toes curled slowly, causing the muscles in her calves to stiffen momentarily.  He slid his hands higher on her legs until his fingers had slipped beneath the hem of the tunic to play lightly on her pelvic bones.  “May I please taste you, Inquisitor?” he finally asked, and the words themselves tumbled over in her chest, generating a pleasing warmth in the pit of her stomach.  “Mmm,” was a murmur behind her closed lips before she finished with a quiet, “You may.”

 

Without moving his hands, his thumbs caught the fabric of her tunic from the underside and gradually inched it upward until she was disrobed and bare before him.  His head dipped forward, so close that she could feel his breath, but he paused a moment as if suddenly remembering himself.  Glancing up, he placed a kiss to her right thigh, then her left, before offering an appreciative, “Thank you.”  She could only nod as she watched him with anticipation.

 

As if testing a wine before taking the first sip, he leaned in to just barely set his mouth against her lips as he breathed her in again.  His eyes closed, and his tongue flicked out, a shallow stroke that traced the split.  She took in a shuddering breath and held it as she watched him, every move slow and purposeful.  His arms straightened a bit to rest his hands just beneath her hip bones, his fingers teasing along their lines, and his thumbs met atop the crest of her mound.  She wanted to lift from the bed, to offer herself to him, but that was her impatience talking, and she couldn't allow it to steal the advantage she'd won this game.   Instead, she gripped at her tunic beneath the cover of the furs, and though it caused the hem to draw higher on her body, Solas seemed not to notice.  

 

His voice was a low vibration between her legs as he hummed a gravelly  _ mmmmm _ against her before his tongue darted out again, its tip tracing languidly between her lips.   Every successive stroke fell deeper, though each was as agonizingly slow until he reached the core of her heat.   Mouth snugged against her, his tongue pressed into her the way one might dip their toe in a lake to test its temperature.  The sensation as well as the brevity of it elicited a small gasp, and she couldn't help the small squirm that burrowed her backside deeper into the bed.  

 

She couldn't see it, but she was certain there was a smirk on his lips.  She could feel it and see the spark of it in his eyes.  His hands moved again, one retreating to her thigh even as the other splayed just beneath her navel.  The long stretch of his hand left his thumb to brush the upper split of her folds, and it worked its way down in easy circles until it caught upon the tight bundle of nerves there.  The breath she drew pulled in her stomach, and the pad of his thumb continued to trace circles around the pearl between her legs.  

 

He delved in again with his tongue, rising from the base of her opening to the top, lapping at her newly sprung wetness and conveying it to his thumb to ease its circuits on her clit.  The sudden change in friction to a slick slide pulled from her lips a deep breath of a moan, and she couldn't help but to roll her hips into his mouth.  He took full advantage of the angle and the thrust to plumb her depths with his tongue, falling deep inside to lap at her core.  Mid-roll, she stopped, ankles hooking behind his back, muscles of her rear flexed, and she simply held herself there.  

 

The movement of his thumb changed from circles to long strokes that swept her clit from top to bottom.  Each touch was a snap of sensation that fell in time with his tongue as it pumped in long thrusts past her opening.   Warmth curled a fist in her belly with the shallow arch of her back, and she reined in every moan to little more than a murmured breath.  Self-denial could be a powerful aphrodisiac, especially when trying to maintain the appearance of control.  

 

His hand on her thigh urged her to open further to him, and she obliged.   Request fulfilled, his hand fell away from her thigh entirely, and he didn't leave her long to wonder where it had gone.   In the span of three heavy breaths, his tongue had taken the place of his thumb, rhythmically pulsing over the sensitive bundle of nerves and two fingers were sunk knuckle-deep inside her.  The arch of her back drew tighter and she threw away all pretense of stoic resistance.  She moaned, the sound rising from impossibly deep in her chest as she pumped her hips into his hand.  

 

In answer, she felt the rumble of his growl add a subtle vibration to the weight of his tongue, and a third finger joined the others as he quickened the pace of their rise and fall within her.  A rush of warmth ran across her skin and she was abruptly far too warm for the furs.  Tossing them off the edge of the bed in a sweep of her arm, she caught his hand as it crawled beneath her tunic.  He could only reach as far as her sternum, so she left his hand behind to cup her breast in her palm.   Catching the bud of her nipple between her index and middle fingers, she massaged the soft mound deeply, and her free hand fell to rest on the crown of his head.  The light drag of her nails on his scalp summoned him, and he rose from his knees to bend over the foot of the bed.  The crooks of her knees were still hooked over his shoulders when he leaned to rest an elbow on the bed, head still buried between her legs and fingers plunging in and out, in and out.  Nearly bent double, her breaths became shorter, colored with moans that verged on cries every time his fingers grazed the spot within her that sent white sparks of sensation through her body.  

 

“Creators, Solas,” she groaned breathlessly from behind clenched teeth as she tensed her legs around him to grind into his hand.  A tightness began to grow in her depths, rose and swelled inside like the insistent push and pull of waves at high tide.  Her fingers became rough on her breast, tweaking her nipple sharply before she withdrew to push the heel of her hand against her forehead before threading her fingers into her hair.  “Harder,” she commanded, and dutifully, he complied.  The brush of his tongue was replaced with suckling on her clit, the occasional scrape of his teeth, as his hand bore deep and fast into her warmth.  Her eyes rolled back even as her lids dropped, and she arched away from the bed with a high-pitched groan.  She could feel her muscles begin to tighten on him, and she pressed her fingers into his scalp, hand riding the rise and fall of his head as he smothered himself in the slick between her legs.

 

He must have felt it, too, as he began to moan into her and he wrapped his free arm across the front of her thighs, pulling her closer, tighter.  Were she not perched on the edge of orgasm, she might have wondered about his need to breath, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the cresting swell of heat that was rising to meet the thrusts of his hand.  She raked her hair away from her face as she scrubbed her head back into the pillows, every breath marked with pleasure.  Her tenuous grasp on herself was quickly ebbing away, every slip of his tongue drawing her closer and closer to the edge.  The momentum of his pace all at once became too hard, too deep, too sweet, too much, and every muscle tensed as her head fell back, breathless and soundless but for a fraction of a second before a body-shattering moan tore from her lips.  She couldn’t help it as her hips lifted from the bed, bucking against his mouth.  With a strong arm, he held her tight, never missing a beat as he pulled his fingers free to drink deep of the warmth that pulsed from her with every thrust.  His tongue filled the void left wanting, and the sounds that issued from her mouth were deep and largely incoherent.  

 

He held her firm as wave after wave washed over her, and even after the involuntary thrust of her hips had stilled, he was still lapping hungrily between her folds.  The pitch of her cries rose when the sensation began to become too much, and only then did he ease his arm from around her legs and let her weight sag from his shoulders.   At some point, her hand had fallen away from his head and was twisted up in the blanket beneath her, and when she opened her eyes, the room seemed impossibly bright though it was the last of the evening sunset that fell through the balcony doors.  Solas was resting his elbows against the foot of the bed, breathing hard, lips swollen and wet with her slick as her eyes settled on him.  They shared a small smile before she pulled her legs from his shoulders and came to her knees.

 

He stood a little straighter as she moved, flexing the tension out of the muscles in his back as he rose to prop on his hands.  She lingered for a moment, taking him in -- the sweat from their bodies had revived the blue paint he’d traced on her leg, and smears of it streaked one of his arms, the side of his neck, as well as one cheek.  He seemed not to realize, and he only moved to swipe the back of his hand across his mouth.  With no further hesitation, she gripped the hem of her tunic and tugged it over her head, throwing it aside even as she rose to press her body against him.  Her mouth fell hungrily on his, and tasting herself on his lips only deepened her kiss.  Like snakes, her arms slithered over his shoulders and tightened around his neck.  She tugged, pulling him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as he climbed over the foot of the bed and forced her back.  

 

In the journey onto the bed, she turned him and guided him to settle on his back, then straddled his lower legs as she draped her body over his to litter kisses along his stomach.  His arms folded behind his head as he watched her, her white tresses swept to one side, tickling his ribs, as her lips and tongue traced a path to the waist of his breeches.  When she arrived there, the fingers of one hand began to work at the laces even as she drug her lips over the leather trapping his length as it pulsed to be free.  He rumbled out a groan at the sensation, which turned into a breathy sigh of relief when she peeled back the front plackets of his breeches.  When she tugged at the hips of the garment, he lifted away from the bed, allowing her to pull them down his legs to remove them entirely.  When she settled astride him again, she wasted no time, her thin fingers curling around his shaft even as she slid her lips around the head.  

 

His eyelids drooped as he groaned, and a tremor raced through him from head to toe.  Her tongue was twisting around him in circles as she sucked forcefully at his head.  It was on the verge of being too much when she shifted slightly, cupping his balls in one hand as her mouth fell down his length.  The sensation stopped his breath in his chest and his eyes fluttered; he could feel himself pressing against the back of her throat, but with a subtle tilt of her head, she took him deeper until her lips brushed at the base of his shaft.  There was no stopping the sound that fell from his lips or his hand as it tangled fingers in her hair.  He tried not to buck against her, but feeling the muscles in her throat working to accommodate him was almost too much.  She felt the subtle twitch in his body that always preceded a thrust of his hips, and she backed off, drawing in a heavy breath before she began to consume him.   With her tongue a constant pressure on the underside, her lips fell down his length, over and over.  When the taut ring of her mouth drew back past the brim of his head, he moaned, sometimes from between clenched teeth, sometimes over lips parted with harried breaths. 

 

When she gazed down the length of his body, she found his grey-blue eyes watching her, his lips parted slightly as his breaths fell from the heavy rise and fall of his chest.  The intensity in his stare only encouraged her, and she turned her eyes down to her task.  She twirled her tongue along his length when she drew back, gently rolling and gripping his balls as she sunk down on him to the back of her throat again.  It was only as her breath began to burn in her lungs that she pulled her mouth away and took him in hand.  Even then, she couldn’t stay away entirely, and as she curled the ridged grip of her fingers across his head, she traced the tip of her tongue from base to tip along the underside of his shaft.  When she reached the summit, her hand slid down his length as her tongue brushed long strokes along the slit.  She was rewarded with the taste of him, slightly salty, on her tongue as he groaned and curled his fingers in her hair.  

 

Leaning up onto one elbow, she placed an open-lipped kiss on the tip to allow her tongue to dart out.  She traced circles on his head, winding ever downward until her lips slid past the crest.  His moans had become as rhythmic as the movement of her hand, each pump meeting her lips as it rose.  At intervals, her lips would follow her hand down, embracing the base of his shaft for a moment before bobbing back up again.  When his fingers began to tighten painfully in her hair and she felt the muscles of his thighs tighten beneath her, she returned to the exclusive use of her mouth.  Her hair had fallen over his hip as she swept it to one side, one hand supporting her weight as the other gave gentle tugs to his balls as her head rose and fell with a quickening pace.  His breaths became gasps as his second hand joined the first in her hair, simply holding, not pushing as he bore back into the bed to keep from thrusting.  She followed his body down, and there was thinly veiled desperation in his voice when he spoke, “Niyera...I need...can I…?”

 

His voice trailed off into a moan, and she only murmured a Mmmhmm around him in affirmation of his request.  A low growl crawled out of his throat as he began to thrust up and into her mouth, each roll of his hips grinding his head into the back of her throat.  She closed her eyes and held her breath as his hands fisted in her hair, alternately holding her still and forcing her down to meet the pumping of his hips.  Her eyes had just begun to water with the lack of air when in her hand, she could feel his balls draw tight, and his back arched even as he cried out.  With a long, deep thrust, he buried his cock in her throat and came, and she was helpless to do anything but swallow thrust after thrust.  Her lack of breath hung heavy at the center of her chest, and she fought the urge to struggle against his occupation of her throat.  Instead, her hands massaged his sack as she rode out the instinct to fight for breath because, in truth, this was how she liked to be taken.  

 

As his thrusts became shallow and his fingers unclenched from her hair to massage her scalp, she took in greedy breaths of air through her nose.  When he finally released her, she rested her chin on his thigh and gazed up at him through the haze of her pleasure.  Both still breathing hard, he returned the expression and curled a beckoning finger at her.  Her smile only widened as she crawled up his body, and he pulled her into the shelter of his arms.  He slipped a hand along her neck, fingers brushing into the hair at the base of her skull as his thumb stroked the skin in front of her ear.  Warm and gentle lips peppered kisses across her brow and along her cheeks, then to each corner of her mouth before settling there in a full press.   His tongue trailed her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and her own tongue darted out to meet it.  The kiss was tender, deep, and seemed to last a lifetime as she languished contentedly in their mingled taste.  Eventually, their bodies became a tangle of arms and legs, and they drifted into sleep, her face nestled his shoulder and his cheek pressed to hers.


End file.
